The Handy Man
by FairDrea
Summary: A cold winter evening, a broken dryer, and a sudden urge to role play. Adult situations involved. Read at your own risk!


A/N: OMG I've been writing this for a year. I finally sat down with a book in a last ditch effort to get some creative juices flowing and lucky for me, it worked! So...what was supposed to be a simple, smutty one shot turned into a complicated one shot that I'm hoping speaks very well towards Beetlejuice and Lydia's complicated relationship. :) Enjoy! Also, huge HUGE thank you to my girls Becks and Kristina for role playing this out, looking it over, being a set of fresh juicy eyes when I needed them. You girls are the best!

 **The Handy Man**

"Come on you piece of worthless mechanical shit…just… _do_ something…a click…a _buzz_ ….talk to me damn it!"

Beetlejuice glanced up from the photography magazine he was pretending to read for the sake of alleviating his boredom and grinned at the tiny slip of a woman now kicking the dryer tucked into the spacious closet of her apartment. She was a sight to behold – pale cheeks flushed with frustration, sweat-soaked hair escaping from the ponytail piled atop her head and clinging to her skin, dark eyes flashing with unrestrained hostility, an oversized black sweatshirt with the sleeves shoved up to her elbows hanging over a pair of dark violet leggings. She stomped one little foot encased in a simple black flat and it was all he could do not to fall off the couch laughing. Any person in their right mind would have taken that opportunity to get the hell out of the room but Beetlejuice wasn't even remotely close to being in his right mind. As it were, he was having a hell of a hard time containing his mirth and dared to smile up at the angered woman.

"Problems, Babes?"

He floated over to her and she whirled on him, fists clenched at her side. He thought for one tiny iota of a moment that maybe, just _maybe_ , he should be entertaining a little fear and reservation. All he could really manage, however, was to wipe the grin off his face before he evoked the full brunt of her wrath.

"Yes I have _problems,"_ she hissed, clenching her teeth. "This damn dryer doesn't work for _shit_. I've called the damn landlord seven times since Monday to get some help and he has yet to stop by or even return my damn calls-."

"Easy Lyds-," Beetlejuice placated, raising his hands in front of him. He wasn't used to hearing Lydia swear so much in one breath. _That_ was far more unnerving than her tantrum.

"Well, I'm getting sick of hanging my clothes everywhere!" she pouted, once again stomping one dainty little foot before crossing her arms over her chest.

She was so damn cute when she pouted. He'd always thought so. His little Lydia, pouting like a five year old. And he actually didn't mind her clothes hanging everywhere. Especially when said clothing existed in the form of tiny slips of fabric that could barely be considered underwear and bra's ranging from red satin to black lace. Of course, seeing those tempting bits just hanging around always let loose a riot of unwanted images all involving Lydia wearing them and with her being such a close friend…well, it was decidedly uncomfortable.

Beetlejuice cleared his throat and looped a finger under his tie, tugging at it a bit and hoping his face didn't give away his train of thought.

"Well here." He snapped his fingers, ridding himself of those very thoughts and his striped suit and replacing it with a pair of worn jeans, a tool belt, an obnoxious magenta t-shirt and his old handy man hat. "How's about you have Mr. Beetleman take a look at the problem. Bet I could fix that for ya in no time, Babes."

The sudden transformation worked like a charm, erasing the look of anger on Lydia's face and replacing it with a skeptical grin. " _You're_ going to fix my dryer?"

"Sure thing! Ghost with the most, remember?" he boasted, starting for the dryer. "Lemme just grab some tools and-."

"NO!" Lydia surprised him by snagging his arm and forcefully pulling back, causing him to nearly stumble into her. He caught himself and glanced over his shoulder, frowning down at her.

"Lyds, what-?"

"No tools," she said, pointing a finger sternly at his nose. "At least no Neitherworld tools. Don't you remember what happened last time?"

His brow furrowed as Beetlejuice tried to recall the last time he'd ever employed the use of those back-talking idiots. Must have been a hell of a long time ago if he couldn't even remember it. Then again, it had been a hell of a long time in general. Lyds had grown up and although she hadn't jumped the gun at eighteen to get out of her parents house, she did move out once she'd carefully selected a college (what a pain in the ass process that had been) and had found an affordable apartment not far from the campus. When one was toting a ghost along, privacy was pretty much a must.

Lydia was nearly twenty three and he'd been, well…more-or-less living with her ever since she'd moved into her new place. She'd called him out once and had never really bothered to put him back, giving him free reign to do whatever the hell he pleased with the agreement that he keep it somewhat inconspicuous and not get her kicked out of school. Easy enough…especially when a majority of the college kids roaming about were either too jaded, too caught up in whatever the hell they were studying or too damn drunk to get a decent enough rise out of. Hell, Jaque and Ginger were a riot compared to nearly the entire campus.

They had just celebrated their third New Years together when the dryer had crapped out completely and become more of a problem than it was when it was only doing a half-assed job. With the weather turning snowy and brittle, Lydia was less willing to tote a basket of wet laundry down the several blocks that separated her apartment building from a laundromat.

"Here, you can use these. At least they won't declare mutiny if you decide not to ask them nicely to do a job the right way."

Beetlejuice blinked, Lydia's voice dragging him back from his wayward train of thought. He looked down at the small toolbox Lydia held out to him. "You own tools?" he questioned, his tone slightly mocking.

"You can actually fix a dryer?" she shot back, arching a brow and smirking.

He made a face, cutting his gaze to the offending white hunk of electronics. "Probably not. But whatever I'll do be more than your landlord's done."

She leaned against him with a sigh, a head that once only came to just above his elbow resting easily on his shoulder now, her thick midnight hair tickling the side of his neck. He would have brushed it impatiently away and made some crude comment…but it smelled so damn _good._

 _Friend, friend, friend,_ he silently reminded himself. _Only a friend. Quit thinkin' about how good her hair smells and all those thongs hangin' in the shower and the fact that she's got more curves than a Neitherworld freeway…._

"Well…do your…best?"

He nudged her off at that, grinning down at her. "Smart ass. I'll show you. Just cuz' I'm a ghost doesn't mean that I don't know the first thing about fixin' stuff." He set the toolbox to hover in midair and cracked his knuckles. "I'll have it taken care of in no time, Babes."

"Sure you will," she responded dryly.

He ignored her comment and started for the dryer, glaring it down as if it were his own personal enemy. Technically…it was the exact opposite. The thing was leaving Lydia with less and less clothing to wear. Maybe fixing it would be counterproductive to…

 _To WHAT!? What are you thinking! Jeezus, Lyds is a friend…nothin' more. Quit thinkin' like that._

Biting back a string of wildly inappropriate curses, Beetlejuice set the toolbox down on top of the dryer, determined to put his full efforts into fixing the damn thing instead of picturing Lydia in ways he shouldn't have been. Of course, the minute he would attempt to strengthen his resolve…she _would_ shatter it.

"You know, Beej…you're doing it all wrong."

The tone of her voice should have been a warning. Hell, the sudden shift of tension in the compacted atmosphere should have been more than enough to set his Beetle-sense tingling. Yeah, that's right – Beetle-sense. If Spidey could have his own made-up crap about knowing when things were about to go south, so could Beetlejuice. He ignored both and turned to her, questioning her statement with nothing more than a look.

"Well, if you're going to be the handy man, shouldn't you be knocking on the door of the helpless apartment dweller?"

"You're kidding, right?" he deadpanned, not entirely surprised by Lydia's sudden desire to role-play. She was quite the little actress at heart – down-to-earth when she wanted to be but dramatic to a fault when she felt like it. But role-playing something like this? That was a new one.

She laughed softly, propping a hand on her hip and cocking her head to the side impishly. "Come on…humor me. I've been bored out of my mind and stuck in classes for weeks. Have a little fun."

A little fun…well, he never _could_ deny her that. With a long suffering sigh and a slightly dirty look, Beetlejuice let Lydia usher him out into the hallway, tools and all.

"Give me five," she muttered quickly, shutting the door without waiting for a response.

 _Give her five? What did she need five for?_

"Probably tryin' to get in character or some crap like that," he muttered, setting the tool box down by his feet and leaning back against the wall. He started humming some nondescript, off key melody and shoved his hands in his pockets. An elderly woman with some pint-sized yapping menace as stuck up looking as her walked by somewhere along the halfway mark, sticking her pointed nose higher into the air and eying him distastefully. He spared her no more than a nod but decided her dog would look better in a shade of putrid green. And maybe a couple snakes in her purse would liven her up a bit. He could make them look like candy canes so she wouldn't even figure out what she was holding until they hissed. Beetlejuice lifted his hand, grinning in anticipation but the door behind him opening quickly put a stop to his antics.

Fixing an innocent look on his face, he snagged the tools, straightened and turned…only to feel like he'd been knocked right back on his ass. Lydia stood in the doorway, one hand resting on the frame above her head. She'd let her hair down and it fell in a mass of thick waves over her shoulders. She was clad in nothing more than a pair of shorts that could hardly qualify for shorts, that satin red bra timed in black lace that had been the first to catch his attention….and one of his old dress shirts left unbuttoned.

"You must be the handy man," she purred, giving him a slow, sultry smile. "Come on in."

Beetlejuice swallowed thickly, unable to do much more than stare….shamelessly.

"Pick your jaw up off the floor," she said smartly, giving him a wink before spinning on her bare heel and sashaying further into the apartment. "And excuse the heat. The place runs a bit on the haunted side so I have to keep it a sultry 90 degrees in here to combat the cold."

Had his jaw hit the floor? He hadn't even noticed. Picking it up, his brain working in wild circles trying to figure out what kind of game she was playing at, he fixed his jaw back in place and warily followed her in.

"Babes…I don't know what you're tryin' to pull here, but-."

"Babes?" She shot him a look over her shoulder, the shirt slipping free to expose the slope of porcelain flesh. "Do you usually address your clients so informally?"

He glowered slightly. So she _was_ only messing around. _Well…if you wanna play Babes…then let's play,_ he thought with a devious smirk.

She whirled to face him once more, leaving nothing more than a precarious breath of space between them. The sudden lack of space took him off guard and almost made him forget all about his decision to humor her. Almost.

"I'm kind of low on cash." She lifted a hand, sliding her fingertips along the seam of the front pocket of his tool belt. Simultaneously, her shadowed lids and her voice lowered – a dangerous combination of teasing and seduction. "Maybe we could…work something out?"

He took the bait, all thoughts of their friendship quickly vacating his brain, as if someone had reached in and ducttaped rationality to a wall. "Is that so?" he drawled, trailing his nails lazily over her arm, nudging her hand to the buckle of the belt. "Guess I could think of somethin'."

Her eyes, already impossibly dark, darkened even further and he could have sworn he heard her breath catch. "Something like…" she prompted breathlessly.

"Hmm," he leaned in, indulging in her scent. Damn, she smelled good. He could easily pick out the soap she used in the shower…but there was something else…something dark and sexy. He was pretty sure she didn't have anything that smelled just like that. _Must be her…_

Lowering his head to her neck, he grinned when her breath caught again - this time more audibly. This wasn't a game. She _wanted_ him.

He pulled away. "How about ya start with a beer?"

She jerked back. Breaking character, she scowled and slapped his arm lightly. "You're such a guy."

"What?" he returned innocently, chuckling when she spun away and went to the fridge. _Teach her to mess with the ghost with the most._ He turned to the dryer and leveled a determined glare at the contraption. He'd have the damn thing working, just like he said, then he'd sit with a smug-as-hell look on his face, feet propped up on the coffee table and beer in hand to enjoy his victory. And thinking about that was much easier than dealing with the confusion that came with the knowledge of her wanting him.

"Alright, you fickle bitch...time to make you work," he muttered, dropping the tools to the ground.

Before he could start for the dryer, something cold tapped him in the shoulder.

"You're beer, Mr. Beetleman," Lydia said, holding the bottle out to him by the neck. She loosely grasped a thin stemmed glass of wine in the other hand. There was a lipstick stain along the rim - a dark ruby red. He stared at as he reached for the beer, fascinated by the imprint of her full bottom lip. Of course, staring at a stain on a glass took his focus off of where he was actually reaching and it took him a while to register that what he was touching was warm flesh edged in soft lace.

"Change your mind about repayment then?" Lydia asked.

Confused, Beetlejuice glanced up at her only to see her smirking down at the fingertips lightly touching the hem of her bra. His immediate thought was to yank his hand back and scowl. But no, it couldn't go down like that. Not in this game. In this game, he had to play along. So he forced a noncommittal shrug instead, taking the beer. "Not quite, ma'am."

He tipped his hat up with the bottle before taking a long pull, winking at her and turning back to the dryer. And damn her provocative as hell ass, she didn't just let him get down to business. Oh no, not _his_ Lydia. She propped her scantily clad behind right up on the washer, crossing those smooth, long legs of hers and sipping her wine with the smug grin he should have been wearing while she watched him work.

 _Bet she's lookin' for some kind of back and forth. Damn, I'm usually so good at this. Then again, not often in the position of being the one takin' the lead._

He cast a sidelong glance at the skinny tree wrapped in white lights, silver ribbon and decked with glass bulbs of black and magenta. "Well, that's the spookiest damn Christmas tree I've ever seen. Little late in the year for that, ain't it?"

Lydia hummed softly, glancing over at it with a fond smile. She was probably remembering the night they'd put it up together. They'd gotten snowed in and all of her classes had been cancelled. She'd been in a ridiculously festive mood, insisting on decorating a small fake tree she'd brought from her parents house, making eggnog he'd been liberal in spiking, watching old Christmas movies. Outwardly, he showed nothing but nausea and distaste for everything she was "putting him through." Inwardly...he'd enjoyed every moment of it.

She'd insisted on keeping it up well after Christmas, claiming it made a perfect Valentine's day tree as well. Too bad they'd both skipped over that holiday, blatantly and awkwardly ignoring its context.

The memory made those uncomfortable, non-friend feelings twist and he grimaced, going back to work on the dryer.

"I guess. Kind of feels like the apartment would be a little empty without it, though. And Christmas isn't really my holiday. I'm more into Halloween," she murmured.

She set the glass of wine down behind her, leaning over and half lying on the dryer, crossing her arms beneath her breasts and giving them more lift than was even necessary. Without trying to look as if he'd noticed at all, he risked a glance up, the swell of breasts and cleavage leaving his mouth bone-dry.

"Halloween, huh?" he did his best to control all urges to stare at the display before him. With as much as she'd filled out over the years, it was damn hard. "Not into the spirit of giving as much as you are in the spirit of screaming?"

He watched her lips twitch. It was obvious that she was trying not to smile, trying to hide something from him. Blood had rushed to her face and turned her cheeks a very alluring shade of red. "Something like that," she said. "Not sure what it is. Ghosts, the thin line between good and evil, the strange and unusual. Something just...gets into me."

"Sometimes ya just gotta let it get into ya. A kickass spirit can take you all kinds of places, if you know what I mean," he answered, forcing his tone to remain neutral, as if he weren't inviting her to take this little game of hers to new heights, wasn't inviting her to twist the comfort of their friendship into something filled with sinful pleasure and insatiable lust. He watched her from the corner of his eye as she let her legs fall open, stretched her arms over her head and elicited a tiny hum that drove him half mad.

 _Shit, how did she even learn how to make noises like that?_

"Can I interest you in anything to eat, Mr. Beetleman?"

He knew what she was trying at. It was tempting. So damn tempting. She was a feast for the eyes alone, sitting like that. There was another part of him though, a part ruled by devious curiosity, that wanted to see how far Lydia was willing to push this. How far would she let this little game of hers go?

"Ya know, now that you mention it," he let his eyes linger for a moment on what she was no-doubt offering before he moved his gaze to her face, waiting for the reaction. "Got any sandwiches?"

Her eyes clouded over with frustration and disappointment though she obviously fought like hell to keep it off her face. "Sure. I could make you something. What would you like? I'm partial to a nice, thick six inch myself."

He gritted his teeth together, his stomach twisting. Shit, she was going to make him pay for his evasiveness like that, was she? The girl could hit where it counted. He forced a smirk, shifting to ease the growing ache pressing against the fly of his jeans. "Hmm, more of a footlong guy myself. Been known to make things stretch and make 'em last."

She suddenly moved off of the washer and walked quickly to the kitchen, offering him nothing more than a tiny laugh that felt very much like a brush off. He barely managed to keep from laughing himself. He could see she was battling to stay in control of the game. Knowing her, she would fight it out to the very end. He tried to focus on the task in front of him. That alone was proving to be a much more difficult challenge than keeping his cool in the heat of Lydia's role-play seduction. He almost had it together...almost...when she was suddenly back and her hips were pressed intimately against his shoulder, catching him completely off guard. "Sorry...forgot my wine."

Beetlejuice made the mistake of looking up, earning himself a great view of her body. The heat was coming off of her in waves, the temperature of her apartment doing little to quell the burn of her flesh against his. And he had to comment on it. Had to. Because this was _her_ game. But there was no way in hell he was going to let her win that easily. "Heat makin' ya thirsty?."

She grinned down at him, shifting her hip slightly so that it pressed more fully against him. "There's a whole world of things keeping me hot and thirsty right now, Mr. Beetleman," she said sweetly before pushing away from him and strutting off to the kitchen with a saucy swing of her hips.

 _Damn that girl…_ he thought to himself. She was testing his wits to the very end. "You know what they say...can't stand the heat, get out the kitchen," he muttered, standing up and leaning back against the dryer, wanting to watch her more than stare at a dryer he wasn't sure he could actually fix. She graced him with a wicked upturn of her lips before opening the fridge and examining the contents. "But you wanted a sandwich. I wouldn't be much of a hostess if I couldn't' satisfy your needs, now could I?"

"I thought I was here to satisfy your needs, Babes." His expression was all of the playfulness and mischief she was used to seeing from him, but with a little sinful expectation mixed in.

She turned slowly, resting her hands on the countertop. Something flashed in her eyes, something dark and desperate that spoke to the inner demons he'd been keeping caged up - the demons that wanted and lusted and did every kind of thing he hadn't thought, up until now, was okay. There was a hand at the proverbial lock. One flick of the wrist and they would be free.

"You were so highly recommended. I was hoping that you would come."

 _Fuck me…_ he thought, swallowing hard. _Keep it goin' man. Keep it together. You can win this._

"Who exactly do I owe the thanks to for such high praise," he asked. "I haven't even finished what I came here to do."

She took a slow step forward followed by another. "Does it matter who said it? Maybe you should get to work on what you really came here to do then, Mr. Beetleman. I would love to be properly serviced."

"You know, it would help if you showed me exactly what problem needs proper servicin'. Ya see, I'm good at pokin' around till I find the source but sometimes a guy can push the wrong button." He pulled a screwdriver from his tool belt, flipping it in the air and catching it easily. "Sometimes the problem isn't as complicated as it seems. Sometimes, all it takes to fix the issue is a loose screw."

She lifted her hand, touching a fingertip to the end of the tool. "A loose screw? Or a hard, quick one?"

He nearly dropped the screwdriver. Nearly. He was very quickly losing his grasp on this entire situation. Every provocative thing she was saying was chipping away at his resistance and self-restraint. "Either works for me. We can bang out the details later."

"Or-." Lydia moved around him, her fingertips dropping to his arm and trailing up and over his shoulder as she passed. She propped herself up on the dyer, placed her hands between her legs and leaned forwards just a little, her arms pushing her breasts together. "-We could bang out the details now. I _really_ need you to figure out how to turn it on."

If he needed to breath, it would be a very large problem right now. He was at a loss for words as he watched her fingers curve against the metal of the dryer, drank in the sight of her generous cleavage.

"Come over here, Mr. Beetleman," she nearly purred, her tongue running over her full top lip. "Show me what a good screw looks like."

He lost.

Just like that, he lost. The lock was open and the ravenous beasts were set free. And he really didn't give one shit about it. He threw the screwdriver aside, muttering, "fuck this," as he closed the distance between them and slipped an arm around her waist, drawing her close.

He gave her no time to think, no time to breath, before he was devouring her, feasting on those full lips that had taunted him for far too long, breathing her in like the fire that she was, casting light into the darkness of his afterlife.

There were no characters now. No helpless tenant, no handy man - there was Beetlejuice and Lydia and the raw desire that had existed below the surface of their friendship, craving release.

Lydia's legs locked around his waist, arms wound around his neck, her lips parting on a sigh that he took full advantage of, his tongue delving in to taste her wine-soaked sweetness. Good gods, she tasted wonderful. Drugging. _Alive._

He lifted her easily, spun and shoved her against the neighboring wall of the kitchen, pressing his hips against hers and groaning when he felt just how hot she was. He wanted more than just the feel of her heat against him, though. He was greedy, yanking free the button of the tiny shorts she was wearing and slipping his hand inside, hissing out a breath when his fingers were against her and she was whimpering, pleading mindlessly. He drove his fingers into her, biting her neck just below her ear and chuckling darkly when she cried out, her voice a raw scrape of sex against his shattered resolve.

The more she begged, the harder he pushed, until she was clawing at the wall behind her, arching to meet every thrust of his hand. He pushed until she was at the very edge, her cries throaty and hoarse, and then he stopped.

"Just because you won," he managed, his own voice slightly breathless, "doesn't mean I'm goin' down-." He paused, rethinking that entire idea. Put in a different context, and it was exactly what he wanted to do. "Then again..."

"What are-."

He silenced her with a kiss, hot and open mouthed, distracting enough that she didn't realize until he was finished, that her shorts and the slip of lacey nothing she'd opted for that day were laying on the floor and she was sitting on the counter, fully exposed to his feasting gaze. Again, he gave her no time to adjust to what was happening. Because he was suddenly _starving._ He pushed her back, gripped her hips and leaned over, flicking the tip of his tongue against her heat and grinning at her stuttering gasp.

She clawed at his shoulders as he mercilessly drank from her, tongue and teeth scraping against every sensitive fold of flesh, feeling her pulse racing at a near frantic pace. Her cries only made him so much more hungry, so much more driven by an overwhelming desire to know the taste of her as she came apart.

Her body went tense and he slid his arm under her back as it bowed away from the countertop, pushing his tongue deeply into. She screamed, her body shuddering violently, her nails digging into his skin and the taste of her was as close to heaven as he would ever get. He made a note to do that again...as many times as humanly possible, and leaned up, watching Lydia attempt to pull herself back together.

She was gasping for breath, her fingers caught in her hair. She murmured something but he wasn't at all sure what it was.

"What's that, Babes?"

She pushed herself up on her elbows and he felt his own need for her intensify to the point of nearly painful under the weight of her fiery gaze. "I want more." One tiny foot planted itself firmly against his chest and she shoved him back, sitting up. Her cheeks were flushed, her gaze dark and needy. "I'm not quite satisfied yet, Mr. Beetleman."

Beetlejuice stilled, his eyes narrowing. _Still a fuckin' game._

"Say my name," he demanded, his voice low.

She grinned. "Mr. Beetle-."

"No, _my_ name, Lyds."

Her smile faltered, the fire from her eyes snuffed out. "But I thought-."

He shook his head, backing away from her. "Three times. Let's go. Find someone else to fix your damn dryer."

The fire flared back to life, this time lit by a simmering fury that should have scared him, that _should_ have told him he needed to calm down before he did something irrational. But as furious as she was, he would bet every damn thing he had that he was in worse shape. The second he'd kissed her, it had stopped being a game. It had been the end of a game he hadn't even realized he'd been playing. And everything felt fucking _right_ for once. Now...now it felt empty and hollow.

"Beetlejuice-."

His throat constricted and he fought to remain cool and uncaring, even when it hurt like hell. He wasn't lost to the fact that they were also arguing with her standing there in her righteous nude glory, distracting the fucking hell out of him. "There ya go. Two more."

"I'm not sending you back."

"And I'm _not_ playing your fucking game!" he snarled. "You want me to stay, then you need to come clean, Lyds. Do you want me or not? Because this game playin' bullshit's got to stop. It's confusin' enough lookin' at you like that and having these... _feelings_. If this is just some damn game to you-."

He couldn't go on. Couldn't because in all of his ranting, she'd taken advantage of his angered distraction, closed in on him and her mouth was suddenly on his, cutting him off. For a second he faltered, he forgot all about the point he was forcing himself to make because the taste of her was so hard to resist. Then he put his hands on her shoulders and pushed her back. "I'm not playin-."

"Neither am I," she said, watching him steadily.

"Oh-."

"Yeah, _oh_. And if you weren't so oblivious, I wouldn't have to resort to games just to get you to notice me as more than your sidekick." She crossed her arms over her chest, arching one delicate brow. "Did you need to keep yelling at me or are you done?"

He hesitated, not entirely sure of himself in the moment. This he hadn't expected. He'd expected a fight, to go back to the Neitherworld and lick his wounds, ignore her for a few days while he scrounged around to find whatever shreds of his pride he could piece back together. The adrenaline for a fight was still there,tamped down a bit...but still running hot and fluid through him and being as how he often spent his time dead cold, he was reluctant to let it go so quickly. Instead, he latched onto it.

"Well, how the hell am I supposed to pick up on anythin'!?"

"How the hell couldn't you?!" she shouted back. "Seriously! I've been throwing myself at you for months! I'm not exactly good at this. I did everything my inexperienced brain could think of to get you to notice _me_ the woman...not me the kid. I even hung my underwear _everywhere_!"

Beetlejuice threw his arms up. "Your dryer is broken! BRO-KEN. That's what started this whole damn thing!"

Lydia stalked past him to the dryer, turned the crank and slammed her hand down on the button, starting the dryer up. "No...it's not. The landlord fixed it weeks ago."

 _Well shit._

His mind grappled to keep up with what was happening. She was shifting the aspects of their friendship drastically, making it painfully known that she'd been trying to for quite some time and that he hadn't noticed. He wasn't really that oblivious…

Was he?

 _You can either sit here and try to remember every little unfriendly thing she did, stew in your anger and let the door close on what she's offering...or-._

"So...this isn't a game," he stated carefully, still keeping his narrow eyed gaze fixed on her.

She shook her head. The frown she was wearing, once irritating, was now the cutest little downturn of lips he'd ever seen her wear. "Tell me somethin' so I know it's not."

"Beej, I already told you-."

He pressed his hand to her mouth to stop her and shook his head, smiling. And not a lurid, suggestive grin or a crazed flash of teeth fraught with possible destruction. A true, honest to gods smile that he could _feel_ to the very depths of whatever was left of his soul. "You know what I'm askin' for, Babes." He slowly moved his hand away, resting his forehead against hers. "Or do you want me to say it first?"

Her eyes glassed over and her lips trembled. "I think you owe it to me," she whispered.

"You're right. I do." He wrapped his arms around her tiny waist, drawing her up against him, feeling her heat bleed into him. "Lydia Deetz, I love you."

Her eyelids closed, two tears escaping from between them and drifting down her cheeks. She ran her hands up his chest, a sigh staggering past her lips. "I love you too, Beej."

There was a brief, fleeting moment in which he thought the night would still and become something far more different than what it had started out like. That was until he brushed his lips against hers in a would-be-innocent kiss and the moment took on a life all it's own. Her hands were suddenly fisted in his hair, his arms were crushing her to him and there was a frantic, hungry edge to a kiss that had started so simple, with no expectations. With a growl, Beetlejuice lifted Lydia and she wrapped her legs around his waist, gasping as he pressed his rigid length against her heat.

"My room...now," she breathed against his mouth, her legs locking around his waist.

He couldn't get there fast enough. Not with her greedy mouth all over his and her hands yanking impatiently at his clothing. She was a ravenous, eager little she-demon and holy shit, how he loved her.

He started for the bedroom and stumbled over her toolbox, losing his footing and nearly careening into the tree he now found obnoxious as hell. "That needs to go down," he muttered, nipping at her neck and getting right back on track towards the bedroom. Vanity be damned, he had better things to do than spend any time feeling a little embarrassed over almost going ass first into a damn Christmas/New Years/Valentines tree.

"You need to go down," she murmured back, her fingers snaking through his hair and holding him loosely. "Preferably on me."

"Again, huh? Liked it that much?"

"Probably more than I should have." She took her hands away from his head once they were in her room, rolling her shoulders to shrug away the loose dress shirt. It got caught on her arm and she swung it with a frustrated grunt. Of course, with their brand of luck, the damn thing caught on one of the many makeshift clothes lines she had zig-zagging across her bedroom where she'd hung nearly every bra she owned.

"Son of a bitch!" she yelped, yanking at her arm now stuck above her head, the fabric of her shirt hanging across her chest and hiding one glorious breast from his view. A view that was obscured seconds later by red lace.

He came to a complete stop, scowling at the underwire now hanging over his head and sighed. "Ya know, this was a lot hotter when we were putting more of an effort into _not_ bein' ourselves."

Lydia giggled, plucking the bra free and tossing it aside. "Guess this is just more us. Help me get this shirt off."

"Gladly," he said, grinning wolfishly at her and snapping his fingers, alleviating her of the cotton constraints and simultaneously getting rid of the clothesline to make sure it wouldn't interfere again. With the shirt gone, she was completely bare to his gaze. He'd always thought she was beautiful, always thought her eyes and smile could light the darkest parts of Hell itself. But Lydia naked, her full breasts begging for his attention, her skin a healthy pale peach flushed with pleasure, her navel a delectable dip that called his attention to the trimmed, dark curls at the apex of her creamy thighs that were still wound tight around him - she was something more than just beautiful. She was every damn thing his hollow heart could ever dream of wanting. And damn, did he ever want her. He wanted to feast on her like she was a cream covered piece of the sweetest cake-.

He was so distracted by the sight of her, riding hellbent down a one track road that he didn't realize his thoughts had manifested through his powers until Lydia was suddenly smeared in sweet, sticky frosting.

"Beej, what the hell-?!"

"Shit!" he swore, unable to keep a grip on her with his hands sliding through the frosting. He desperately tried to maintain his hold but she slipped from his hand, falling flat on her ass at his feet. "Damn, Babes! I'm sorry-."

She blew out a frustrated sigh and pushed herself up, looking down at the mess covering her with a sneer. "Is this...frosting?"

"Um..yeah. Sorry. Distracted."

"With what?!" She held her hands up to stop him before he could answer. "I don't think I want to know. I'm just going to...go take a shower," she muttered, sighing once more before turning to walk away from him and towards the bathroom - exactly where he didn't want her going.

"Lyds, wait-."

"No, it's okay," she muttered, waving him off. "Let's just...not do this right now."

The door to the bathroom shut on any argument he could come up with. Which was none. He was at a complete loss, still trying to figure out how it was that they had gone from hot role playing to fits of rage, to romance and then….this.

"What a fucking mess," he groaned, flopping down on the bed. This couldn't be the way it ended. Not with all the effort she'd put into it. Not with how much she put on the line just to get him to quit being such an oblivious dunce.

 _All the effort she'd put into it-._

She really had. Sure, his Lyds was one creative as hell girl, but she'd put more than just some thought into how she would go about getting him to see her as more than just...what had she said...a sidekick? Yeah, that was it. His sidekick.

After everything they'd stumbled through most of the evening - both literally and figuratively - there was no way he would _ever_ see her on that level again. The image of her leaning over, the shadow between her delectable breasts tempting him in every way possible, was burned into his mind and would be going nowhere anytime soon.

 _Kinda like me. Sitting here...in her bed...without her._

His brows lowered. There was a subtle shift from self-disgust to simmering hostility. He was supposed to be the damn ghost with the most. And he had never, not one fucking time, _not_ gotten his way.

"Damned if I'm gonna start tonight," he said, pushing himself off and starting determinedly towards the bathroom door. He could hear the water running on the other side and could easily picture Lydia bending over the tap and testing the water. The thought alone intensified his resolve and he pushed through the door without bothering to knock.

She was, in fact, bent over the tap, giving him a tantalizing view of her backside for a brief second before she was standing straight and turning to face him.

"Beej, what are you-?"

He closed the distance between them, one hand going to her waist, the other curling around the back of her neck and drawing her in. He'd be damned if any amount of fumbling was going to stop him now. He wanted her. Wanted her more than he wanted out of the damned afterlife hellhole and for as many times as he'd attempted to escape the Neitherworld, that was saying something. A few steps and they were under the spray of the waterfall shower that had jacked the monthly payment on her apartment up a good $105.00. Encased in glass and trimmed in stone, she claimed the extravagant space was well worth the extra money. Now that he was in there with room to spare and under a wide spray of steaming hot water, he couldn't argue.

Lydia pushed away and stared up at him with a bemused smile. "Wow...you're in a shower," she murmured, twisting her fingers through his hair.

"That's just how much you mean to me, babes," he said with a small grin and lift of his shoulders. "I'm sorry for fuckin' things up. If you'd give me another chance here...I know I don't deserve it, but-."

"Beej-." Her features softened, her small hands framing his face. "If you want another chance, I'm going to need you out of those wet clothes."

He bent to capture her lips in a searing kiss, snapping his fingers at the same time and getting rid of any remaining clothing. With the fabric constrictions gone and the hot water quickly washing away the frosting sticking to Lydia, he was free to let his hands travel every naked inch of her body, and even if he wanted to, there was no way he could stop. Her warmth, the slope of every curve...she was quickly becoming not only an addiction, but one of his favorite addictions. Like earlier, the tantalizing taste of her was impossible not to-.

He stopped, pulling back and looking down at her.

"Beej, what-?"

"I can...taste you," he said slowly, not really believing it himself. His head was far more clear than it had been earlier, the moment more relaxed. Where he'd noticed before, coveted before, he quickly realized now was not normal. He was dead. The only thing he could really taste was the burn of the 90 proof alcohol mix they served at the local Neitherworld watering holes that would either give a human alcohol poisoning or kill them outright depending on which bartender was mixing that night.

She blinked up at him. "You can?"

"Yeah." To prove his point, he bent his head and dragged his tongue along her collarbone. Lingering frosting, the bitter salt bite of sweat, Lydia herself - it exploded in his senses and he groaned, pulling her closer and opening his mouth over her skin.

She caught her face between her hands, regarded him with almost lazy amusement. In the depths of her dark eyes there was a spark of pure curiosity. "Don't you want to question that?"

"Sure," he allowed, bumping her nose with his. "But not right now. Right now...I wanna enjoy it. Starting right about-," he went down to his knees before her, wrapping his hands around her slim hips and pulling her to him, "-here."

Lydia tensed the moment his lips touched her, trembled when he nuzzled her heat and cried out softly, her legs giving out when he delved into the very core of her being, this time taking the time to enjoy the unique taste. Her foot slipped against the tile and he lifted her leg without thinking, hooking it over his shoulder and opening her further to his attentions.

Her hands worked on his shoulder, nails dragging over his skin. Each breath she took staggered back out, catching on tiny sighs and moans of pleasure. If he let it, he'd easily lose his fucking mind over those little noises. But, by sheer will alone, he stayed focused with two goals in mind - drain her completely, and enjoy every single second of it.

Her breaths started coming more quickly, her nails dug deeper. Her entire body went tense and as she was overcome by her release, he rose and slowly, easily sunk into her tight heat, letting loose a groan of pure euphoria. She was simultaneously coming apart and being pieced back together, barely able to catch her breath and recoup from her first orgasm before her body was tensing for the second. One leg still remained hooked over his shoulder, the other wrapped around his waist and he slid his hand under it, pulling her closer.

She encouraged him with every breathless gasp, every plea. It wasn't long before those goals were nothing more than a disappearing set of headlights in the rearview, before she was consuming him and he was losing it entirely.

Lydia grasped his face, pulling him into a heated, open mouthed kiss that he couldn't seem to pull away from . He kissed her deeply, consumed by her, a heady kind of desperation clouding his mind.

The hot, steaming water pelted down on them, slickening their bodies and adding an erotisism to the entire situation that wasn't lost on Beetlejuice at all. No juice kept Lydia where she was, no wall kept them balance and offered them a surface to screw the hell of out each other on. It was them, relying on one another, moving together. Just them.

"I love you, Lyds," he ground out between his teeth, tightening his arm around her waist and driving into her hard and giving himself over to mindless pleasure.

Lydia wasn't far behind. Her inner muscles tightened around his length, her breath caught and held for a moment, and then she was sagging against him, her body shuddering, a low moan of surrender slipping through her swollen lips.

Lydia remained wrapped around him, something he had no problem with. When her body stilled and her breathing returned to normal, she sighed and dropped her forehead to his shoulder. "Love you too,' she murmured, "Feel a 'lil drunk."

Beetlejuice chuckled, glancing up at the shower head and wondering briefly how much longer the hot water would hold out. "That could be on me, babes. Mighta drained ya just a bit. Not intentionally."

She hummed again, snuggling further into him. "Might have to dock your pay a bit for that, Mr. Beetleman."

He snorted, giving her behind a smart whack and causing her to giggle. "Go right ahead, babes. I think I've already been compensated pretty damn good." He pulled back and leered down at her. "That is...unless you think you've got somethin' else you need me to look at."

"I could probably think of a few things." Her sweet full lips pursed and he quickly snuck a kiss, unable to resist the temptation. "Maybe my bed's not level?"

"Well, that's some serious shit," he said with a grin. "We'd better go check that out toot-sweet!"

With a wink, he tosser her over his shoulder and started for the bedroom, juicing off the water and lights with Lydia's beautiful laughter echoing in his ears.


End file.
